


A Man With Wax Wings

by Kierkegarden



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also Somehow Gratuitous Egypt References, Gratuitous Descriptions of the Sky, Gratuitous Romance, Grindeldore, Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2016, Icarus myth, It's Only Angsty Because You Know What Comes Next, M/M, This Was Obviously Self Indulgent, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8983174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kierkegarden/pseuds/Kierkegarden
Summary: On the night of their departure, the letter felt heavy in his hands with news of Kendra’s passing. The boys sat by the crackling fire in silence. Albus pledged then that he would not be Icarus. He would travel when his wings were not wax and bid Elphias good luck. Then, the sun crashed into Godric’s Hollow with blond curls and banter and a laugh like honey. He melted anyway.   or 1899 romantic!Grindeldore for the sake of romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/gifts).



> or @Kyluxxury on Tumblr for the Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2016.
> 
> I am painfully aware that Icarus has been referenced for these two before, so this may be entirely unoriginal but it was a good idea at the time.
> 
> Also, did you guys know that Albus went to Cairo directly before meeting Gellert? I sure didn't remember that until looking into it but it is _heavily_ implied, as he is the gold medal winner for the Alchemical Conference there. The more you know!

When he visited Cairo, the heat had blazed into the evening, providing a stark contrast to the emptiness of night. Albus had snatched the Gold Medal for Alchemy like the sun into his pocket and the praise rained down. Sand banks and hands to shake and not nearly enough trees (but beautiful architecture). The days seemed longer and simpler then, though he was weary of shaking hands and eager to continue travelling. He wrote Doge to say he wouldn’t be long, and to wait, that they would travel the world soon enough. 

 

On the night of their departure, the letter felt heavy in his hands with news of Kendra’s passing. The boys sat by the crackling fire in silence. Albus pledged then that he would not be Icarus. He would travel when his wings were not wax and bid Elphias good luck. Then, the sun crashed into Godric’s Hollow with blond curls and banter and a laugh like honey. He melted anyway.

 

_ It was rightfully a cloudless night, _ Albus thought,  _ as if the stars had come forth as a celebratory embellishment to the empty summer sky.  _ The moon hung low too, a storybook moon. Like a gentleman, it had weakened into a sliver, not dominating the tapestry. Still, it was too dim to make his way to the Bagshot residence so Albus flicked his wand like a candle, whispering  _ Lumos _ as he went. 

 

He was greeted at the door by a Gellert in his bed clothes. His hair was tousled from sleep but his eyes were wide and alive. Behind him, the front hall lay in shadow. Light snoring could be heard through the open door of the library. Peering past Gellert, Albus could just barely make out his aunt’s figure fast asleep in a rocker.

 

“Pleasant night,” the Austrian whispered, gazing past Albus into the starlight. 

 

“It is,” Albus followed him into the cottage, closing the door behind him, “but a sleepless one for us both. I must admit, I was quite pleased to receive your letter.”

 

Gellert led him to his room, where he lit a lantern. The walls were covered by homey art, clearly not to Gellert’s taste. The large stained wooden desk empty save a little brown box and stationery set and the bed wrinkled. The whole place felt like a room in an upscale hotel, as if Gellert was a tourist set to leave in the morning. Albus seated himself on Gellert’s armed desk chair, thrusting the thought from his mind. 

 

“I apologize that we can’t meet in the library,” Gellert smiled warmly, facing him from the bed, “Bathilda seems to have taken up late night reading. I’d fall asleep too reading some of the things she does.  _ A History of Magical Cookery in the Fifteenth Century.” _

 

“Oh come Gellert, don’t you have any appreciation for self-stirring taffy?” Albus smirked, straightening, “What’s on the agenda for tonight then? Did you manage to sneak in and claim the books and maps we were working on last?”

He secretly hoped that Gellert had not. The pair had plunged unrelentingly into route algorithms and heavy reading. As much as he enjoyed Gellert’s grins and unabashed kisses at each new discovery, Albus longed for a discussion on philosophy or literature or  _ Gellert. _ Gellert was not easy to get to know, bits and pieces of his childhood were subtly left as buried treasure in conversations and nuanced looks. Most of what Albus knew of Gellert came from his idiosyncrasies and speculation. Albus was greedy for more. 

 

Gellert frowned slightly. “I didn’t risk it. I was hoping we could be free of an agenda, it’s late at night and I wanted to show you something.” 

 

He moved behind the chair where Albus sat and put the brown box from the desk in Albus’s hands. As he leaned over, Albus became keenly aware of the other boy’s lips  _ this _ close to where his earlobe met his neck. He shivered.

 

At first glance, the box looked simple. A dark sturdy rosewood with simple sides. It was about the size of a child’s pig jar. At a closer look, however, Albus noticed the intricate woodburned and painted sun at the top. _ Ever fitting.  _

 

“It’s lovely.”

 

“There is much more to it than that. Close your eyes.”

 

Albus playfully reached behind him, swatting the other boy. “Absolutely not, Mr. Grindelwald. How should I know that you’re not going to do something obscene or dangerous?”

 

“If I was to do something obscene or dangerous, I would want you to see it,” he persisted, catching Albus’s hand and giving it a squeeze, “Close your eyes, Herr Dumbledore. It will be worth it, you have my word.”

 

Sighing in concession, he felt Gellert remove his glasses. The Austrian’s warm lips graced each of his eyelids, his cheek and then made fleeting contact with his own. Albus’s heart fluttered as he shifted in his seat.

 

When he visited Cairo, Albus hadn’t allowed himself physical proximity to anyone. His trip was purposeful - obtain his medal and award - and return home briefly before he set off to Greece. He would have enjoyed those sunny days more, hand in hand with Gellert, waiting in line to view magical artifacts by afternoon. By evening, swimming naked in the Nile, bodies pressed close on the banks, hair wet with river water and grime. Hungry kisses in allyways and hotel rooms. Life was better shared.

 

A minute passed in silence and Albus started. He could hear quiet music surround him and felt distinctly warmer. He opened his eyes at Gellert’s command and drew in a gasp. An orange glow bathed the room from ten rotating suns, each the size of his balled fist. The box, now opened on the desk revealed a brass winder and corresponding pegs: A music box. It was playing the most soothing song Albus had ever heard. Gellert extended his hand and Albus rose.

 

“Have you ever waltzed before, Albus?”

 

The taller boy smiled, faltering to gain his words. “I was not much of a romantic until I met you. I’ve been saving my first dance for someone beautiful.”

 

With his soft skin bathed in warm light, Gellert looked like a veela. He threw aside his loose bed shirt, revealing a firm but slender upper body. White cotton pyjamas billowed like clouds around his legs as he positioned his hand gracefully on Albus’s upper back. And they began.

 

Each step was deliberate yet soft. Albus followed decently, his teacher the music and Gellert’s breaths on his neck. Gellert seemed to dance in Viennese-style anticipation, stepping one moment before the beat. It confounded Albus at first, but slowly he found rhythm in each step and sway. He closed his eyes and smiled into Gellert’s cherubic curls.  

 

No scent was more alluring and, at the same time, comforting than Gellert’s hair. No touch as stimulating and calming than his skin. Overwhelmed by the ambience, Albus pulled his lover into a deep kiss, tasting the salt on his lips as they parted and danced in time with their bodies and the music.

 

When he visited Cairo, Albus had never dreamed of meeting his equal. He dreamed of, perhaps falling in love with nameless men for a night or two, and quite separately, falling in love with words in books. He dreamed of cold cloudy nights and shrouding himself in fog.  _ Please. Please take me out of the sun. _ His desires were not right, he couldn’t bring himself to love in the way he was taught. On the banks of the Nile, there were beautiful women who wanted to him to hold them. But he would not.

 

Here in the small town where he lived much of his childhood, skipping rocks into the streambed and  _ not _ noticing how the hands of men would fit into his (when anyone was looking), he had come careening into the light. He had not crashed into the sun so much as the sun had walked into his living room with a tray of taffies and a coy smile. 

 

A man with wax wings cannot melt the sun but the sun can melt the wings and the man alike. 

 

_ I must never give up orbiting,  _ Albus thought to himself, hypnotized by the rhythm, Gellert’s heartbeat, and the suns spinning all around them. Two boys at the center of the universe.

 

_ Or I may melt away. _


End file.
